


Lonesome schoolboy, just came into town

by wildestranger



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, rentboy au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-30
Updated: 2007-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-11 18:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildestranger/pseuds/wildestranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU after Cyberwoman, Ianto becomes a rentboy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lonesome schoolboy, just came into town

  
Two weeks after the cyberwoman incident, Jack wakes up to find Ianto's resignation letter on his desk. It tells him that Ianto has already left Cardiff, cancelled his credit cards, got rid of his passport and any other identifying documents. It also suggests that they not follow him.

Jack is impressed in spite of himself. Not because he doesn't think Ianto is capable of such things – after successfully hiding Lisa in the basement for ten months, it's quite clear that Ianto is very capable indeed. But the last two weeks Ianto has walked around the Hub shell-shocked and fragile-looking, more heart-broken than plotting a dastardly escape. Jack considers himself talented in the art of reading people, and he didn't think Ianto had any more secrets left. That this is the second time he has underestimated Ianto Jones rankles him more than it should.

Not enough for him to let Ianto go, though. Nobody gets away from Torchwood without being retconned, and Jack is not about to let Ianto run away with his secrets just because he is clever and looks good in a suit. Ianto may be good at hiding, but he isn't Captain Jack Harkness. And Jack has a number of things he needs to speak to Ianto about.

Like loyalty and the appropriate consequences of making a fool of Jack twice.

: :

It takes Tosh three months to figure out how Ianto got out of Cardiff, and three more to discover where he is now. In retrospect, London is an obvious place, which is perhaps why they had overlooked it for so long. It would have been safer for Ianto somewhere else, in some big city outside the UK, like New York, or Toronto, or Sydney. Which is where Jack had looked first.

It's only a chance that leads Ianto to them this time, a mention of a Welsh boy who likes good suits by one of Jack's contacts in London. Not a combination Jack would have expected to hear again, but the context suggests why Ianto might have thought he'd get away with it.

Jack is not in the habit of discussing high-class escorts with his colleagues, after all.

: :

It's surprisingly difficult to get an appointment. Ianto seems to have chosen his clients carefully, men with money and influence who can ensure that he is only approached by the right kind of people. There are bodyguards with metal-detectors throughout the establishment, forcing Jack to give up his guns, knives, and most of his electrical equipment before he is even allowed in the same floor as Ianto. It appears Mr Saxon is careful with his protégés.

It's expensive, too, but Torchwood can afford five thousand pounds for Jack to speak to Ianto. As long as the bill says 'entertainment' rather than 'prostitute'. PM Jones might find that difficult to accept as legitimate expense.

Jack hasn't allowed himself to think too much about the fact that Ianto is a prostitute. But the red-papered walls, the silk-covered sofas and all the other paraphernalia of a high-class whorehouse make it difficult to forget what Ianto has been doing on those sofas, against those walls. Jack has many months of experience in imagining the things he'd like to do to Ianto, but for some reason the repression he's taught himself doesn't seem to work anymore. Ianto isn't unavailable anymore. And Jack doesn't want to know how many men have availed themselves of him.

Still, when Ianto walks in to the room, the collar of his light blue shirt slightly open, his tie slackened on his throat, Jack can't blame them.

: :

"Hello, Jack."

"Ianto."

There's nothing else to do but look, and Jack takes his fill. In the last six months Ianto has learned to wear his suits differently. The jacket is tighter across his chest, the shirt shorter, offering a glimpse of the pale skin on Ianto's belly. The trousers are lower, too, and fitted closely on Ianto's arse, following the narrow hips and the long muscles of his thighs. The cufflinks have been left open, with unexpected flashes of delicate and shapely wrists (fragile and begging to be captured, held back, tied down). Ianto's pulse-point is visible, his shirt and jacket pulled aside just enough to reveal lickable and tempting skin. If it was hard to keep his hands off Ianto before, it was nothing compared to this.

"It took you a while to find me, Jack. Was there an alien attack on Cardiff that no one has heard about? Or were you just busy with other things?"

"You hid yourself pretty well. This isn't where I'd have expected to find you. Not with all your talents."

Ianto smiles, cold and calm, and it really shouldn't be such a shock to see that on Ianto's innocent, young face. It shouldn't be that hot, either.

"I have many talents, Jack, that you don't know anything about."

"So I see. But you appreciate why I had to come. You left so suddenly, Ianto. There is still unfinished business."

"Of course, sir. I understand perfectly."

Ianto moves closer, the lines of his body graceful and slow as he walks up to Jack. Then, he falls on his knees, smirks in this new unfathomable way, and opens Jack's trousers with quick fingers.

"I know why you came," he says and swallows Jack's cock.

For a moment, Jack can only stand there, shocked and stunned and more aroused than he's ever been, his brain not yet understanding what his cock is telling him. Ianto is very good at this, using lips and tongue to make Jack sweat and pant and rise in Ianto's hands. But it's not enough to make him forget why he's here, or why Ianto is doing this. How he's learned to do this and with whom. Jack pushes Ianto away.

"Not to your taste? As a professional I'd have to say you were certainly enjoying that, but perhaps you had a mind to do something else. Did you want to fuck me, Jack? You can, you know. Here on the sofa, if you'd like. Or on the floor. There's even a bed in one of the other rooms, if you're feeling traditional. You can do whatever you like to me."

This isn't how he expected this to go. Jack takes a step back and tries to button up his trousers. Ianto smirks.

"You know that's not why I came here."

"Really." Ianto stands up and leans close. "Don't think I didn't notice how you used to look at me, Jack. You weren't exactly subtle. Sexual harassment, remember?"

"Is that why you left, then?" Jack smiles, as fake a flash of teeth as ever made an adversary uncomfortable. "Because I wouldn't fuck you? You know, Ianto, you could have just asked. I always had time for you."

The insidious smile disappears, and a cold mask takes its place. Ianto steps back, straightens his back.

"Hardly. And if you're not here for sex, you should leave. I don't have anything else to discuss with you."

"You don't actually think it's going to be that easy to get rid of me?"

Ianto smiles again, and the honest delight on his face is enough to make Jack shiver.

"Oh but it is," he says and pushes a button on his wristwatch. Within five seconds three big men walk in. Ianto turns to them. "Captain Harkness is ready to leave. Please escort him off of the premises."

There's no point in resisting, particularly as all of his weaponry is waiting in a box downstairs. Jack allows himself to ushered out in a friendly but insistent manner. At the door his effects are given back to him, and one of the bouncers pats him on the back. "Don't forget to come again."

Jack smirks back and looks around, says with feeling. "Oh, I intend to."

: :

The next time is a month later. Jack's request for a second appointment isn't turned down, as he expected, but the price does go up. It takes two weeks to convince Harriet Jones that ten thousand pounds is worth it to secure Ianto's secrets, and that no, it wouldn't be easier to just shoot him and get rid of the problem. Not only because Ianto doesn't make public appearances, and it's practically impossible to get hold of him outside that house.

It takes another week to make sure their plans are in place and operational: the ebony-vial that holds the drug, hidden under Jack's clothes and invisible to any x-rays and metal detectors, and the helicopter team two blocks away, ready to arrive at Jack's signal and blow away the windows at Ianto's penthouse. A few alien artefacts have been liberated from the archives to help capture the fugitive. This isn't standard procedure for getting hold of rogue Torchwood operatives, but it has been tacitly agreed that they need to get Ianto back, regardless of how many precepts it violates. Jack hasn't told the others of what happened with Ianto, but he knows they all think it's his fault; what Ianto has become, what he has been driven to do.

He's not sure he disagrees.

: :

When Jack enters the room, hands fisted in his pockets and a fake smile twisting his mouth, Ianto is making coffee. Jack takes a moment to appreciate the familiar sight; Ianto's pale neck exposed as he bends his head, Ianto's long fingers, careful and delicate when he smoothes over the dark powder, strong and decisive when he twists the cafetiere. It should be strange to see this in a brothel, for this is not the Ianto he was expecting, but instead it is a relief. Then Jack notices that Ianto is wearing his old suit from Torchwood and realises that he's being played, again.

Ianto turns to look at him and smirks. He pushes a large mug into Jack's hand and whispers: "There you go, sir. Just how you like it."

There's a flicker of satisfaction in Ianto's eyes when Jack takes the mug, lets his fingers brush against Ianto's by habit, and brings it to his mouth to sip. He doesn't drink, though, just enjoys the smell and the feel of hot liquid against his lip. When Ianto begins to frown Jack shifts the mug slightly in his hand and takes a long drink, all without looking away from Ianto.

He drinks, and smiles, and says nothing, until Ianto raises an eyebrow and speaks in a lightly injured tone: "I trust it is to your taste?"

"You know my tastes, Ianto."

"Well, in that case…"

"I didn't come here to drink coffee."

Ianto lifts his chin, smirks.

"Did you come here to talk?"

Jack places the mug on the counter behind him and takes a step closer.

"No."

: :

Jack insists on the bedroom. He pushes away Ianto's eager hands, leaves the braces hanging off his shoulders as he slides his hands under Ianto's jacket, smooth silk and warm skin, barely trembling under his fingers. He throws the jacket on the floor and looks Ianto in the eye as he opens the shirt, button by button, and pulls the tie loose to hang on Ianto's bare neck.

It pleases Jack that Ianto is breathing faster now, even as he stands calm under Jack's roving hands. Shirt and tie end up on the floor, and Jack starts on Ianto's trousers with barely a glance at the skin he has already revealed. He isn't smiling now, and neither is Ianto.

"Jack."

He looks up from where he is fiddling with Ianto's zip, leaves his hands there as he gives Ianto his attention. Feels the flesh jerk beneath Ianto's boxers.

"What do you want, Jack?"

Now Jack smiles, coldly, and enjoys the flinch on Ianto's face when he recognises the look. Jack pulls at Ianto's trousers roughly and leaves them around his knees as he stands up. Even Ianto doesn't manage to be graceful while hopping around with his pants around his ankles.

"To fuck you, of course. Now, on the bed, if you please. On your back."

: :

It takes him less than a minute to get rid of his own clothes. Ianto watches him, silent and carefully unmoving, his cock half-hard against his thigh. When Jack falls on the bed, Ianto spreads his legs a little wider. Jack moves to slide between them.

He lifts his hand to stroke Ianto's throat and feels the pained swallow under his fingers. Smiles, and leans closer.

He could do it now, force the drug into Ianto's mouth and call for back up. Ianto wouldn't have time to resist, and he doesn't suspect Jack at the moment. Well, doesn't suspect him of that.

Then Ianto breathes against his mouth, and it isn't the cocky man in the fancy suit, or the impeccable and imperturbable teaboy. Ianto guards his vulnerability with a determined ferocity, and Jack knows that he shouldn't be seeing this, this nakedness under Ianto's bare skin. Let alone touching it.

But Jack is Jack, and he can't look away. And this is Ianto, and he can't not touch.

: :

Ianto tastes young, almost uncertain under the practiced movements. He keeps trying to close his eyes, then snaps them back open when Jack doesn't look away. His mouth is soft and warm, pliable in ways Jack didn't expect. It doesn't seem right. Sure, Jack wants to bend him over and Ianto should let him, but it should be because he's been overcome by Jack's charm and not for any other reason.

Jack can't decide whether to touch Ianto or ask to be touched himself – both would give Ianto too much opportunity to distance himself. And it's essential that he doesn't. Jack needs to know that he can still get at Ianto, the Ianto that accused Jack of ignoring him and who hid himself; the Ianto that he's determined to uncover and expose and enjoy for himself. He used to know how to coax a reaction out of Ianto, how to make the polite archivist make impolite and innuendo-laden comments.

 _Don't let him brood_ , Jack remembers. _Don't let him keep quiet._

"Ianto, talk to me."

"What would you like me to say? Sir?"

Jack smirks and bends his head to suck at Ianto's earlobe.

"You've been waiting for ages to call me that in bed, haven't you? Kinky Ianto."

There's a shudder beneath him, and then Ianto whispers against his cheek, lips touching his skin: "I think you'll find that's the other way round, sir."

"Actually, I'd prefer Jack. Just so you know who's fucking you." Jack accompanies this statement with a grind of his hips, rubbing against Ianto and pushing his legs slightly wider apart. He enjoys the sudden intake of breath against mouth and takes the opportunity to lick at Ianto's lips, teasing and slow until Ianto tries to lift his head and kisses him back.

Ianto resurfaces dazed after a few minutes, but his voice is clear and steady. "That's not really in doubt, sir. Jack."

Jack grins and sees Ianto flush all the way down to his chest. "Good."

He follows the blush with his mouth.

: :

By the time he reaches Ianto's cock, the startled breaths have changed into embarrassed whimpers and outright moans. Jack feels rather good about this. He's even fairly sure that they're not faked.

At least, the things he's been doing to Ianto _should_ cause such moans.

But when he presses two fingers inside Ianto, who is slick and hot and squirming around him, Jack finds himself affected by the strange intimacy of it all. He's got one arm behind Ianto's head and he's leaning on his elbow, keeping them face to face and sharing breath. He can't stop kissing Ianto's face, rubbing his cheek against Ianto's smoothly-shaven jaw. There are long legs wrapped around his waist and Jack tries to get closer, with hands and mouth and body, any way he can.

A part of him wants to wait until Ianto says please, until he can make Ianto beg. But he also knows that Ianto has the excuse of his profession for faking it, for doing anything Jack might like and claiming it's an act. Jack doesn't want to make it about that and doesn't want to draw it out so that Ianto feels compelled to point it out.

But when he does push inside Ianto, there's a shocked exhalation of breath against his ear and a quiet _Jack_ , and he doesn't know what to do about that.

Jack presses closer.

: :

They don't sleep, after, but Jack is content to lie half on top of Ianto and to feel his heart beat under his palm. He is aware that this shouldn't be as comfortable as it is.

"Where have you got the retcon, then?"

Jack lifts his head from Ianto's shoulder. The other man is staring at the wall.

"Where would you like it?"

Ianto smirks, but still doesn't turn to look at Jack.

"I don't mind, really. It is retcon, isn't it? Nothing more permanent?"

Jack finds himself sliding a hand down Ianto's chest, fingers splayed wide to cover the maximum amount of skin. Almost possessive, and possibly reassuring.

"I wouldn't let them kill you, Ianto."

"And if I wanted to come back, to Torchwood?"

"I'm sure we could work something out."

"Even if it didn't include this?" Ianto makes an elegant hand movement, encompassing their naked bodies, entwined legs, and Jack's come on his thighs. Jack's grin is automatic and determined, if a little insincere.

  
"Yes. Although I would try to change your mind."

Ianto grins back, and Jack has a moment of thinking how that really shouldn't make him as happy as it does.

Then the windows explode in the other room, and after a moment there is Owen, storming in with a parachute pack, half-burned eyebrows, and a gun in his hand. He gives them both a long look and his voice is disgusted.

"You two still at it?"

: :

Two weeks later, Ianto brings Jack a cup of coffee in his office, and Jack performs the ritual inhaling and granting of beatific and suggestive grins. Ianto smirks, and bows his head gracefully.

He makes a point these days of staying out of groping range, though, and Jack is getting annoyed by this. At least before he had the option of thinking about what might be done to Ianto at close proximity. This new Ianto is very stingy with fantasy material.

Not that Jack doesn't have enough from that one (two?) encounter, but still.

"You know, Ianto, you didn't have to go to all this trouble to get my attention."

Ianto pauses by the door, and turns only after a long moment. His smile is bright but slightly defensive.

"It worked, didn't it?"

It occurs to Jack that he's been played, again. He also finds that he doesn't mind anymore.  



End file.
